Roses
by Chaos-in-sync
Summary: Luna's childhood slips through her fingers like the ashes and the red petals.


**Read and review- please~ I expected this to be a one-shot though! My first try at Luna and Rolf!**

**X**

Almost every night after dinner, Luna's mother retreated down to the basement with a new sample to examine; a wingless butterfly, a green dragon scale or a pressed flower the size of a hand- and sometimes a dead fly they had swatted at dinner, maybe a puffeskein or two, delivered in the mail from France. Snap lily seeds, puff-a-pod heart strings and fire leaf all made their way home, from a kind teacher in Hogwarts: _This plant was grown not twenty miles from our school. Enjoy_!

As a young child Luna was mesmerized by her secret downstairs world, by the mysterious paraphernalia with which she was surrounded by. And for years she didn't want her organization disrupted. Luna wasn't permitted to touch any of this, which only fuelled her curiosity.

Her father on the other hand, harbored as less curiosity as possible. He held no seriousness or fascination with the test tubes, microscopes and remember-balls. They could have been pieces of clothes or flowers- deemed a suitable hobby for any mother.

Her father admired fiction to fact. He spent his nights sitting on the porch with novel in his laps. After he'd finish reading, he would rest his hands firmly against the cover as if to let the heat of the words cool down. Luna used to muse of how on such days her father looked a black figure painted against the red sky, like coal embedded into burning wood. His small eyes would scan the darkness seeping into the blue sky, with a timid paint of ochre.

Her father would patiently watch the sun set beyond the hill, tilting slightly to the west as if nodding to the rising moon. Then he'd watch and smile at the dancing fire beetles. The light resembled wisps of smoke gliding like an evanescent snake.

At bedtime, he'd tell Luna of souls who lived in trees, lovers turned to laurels and children turned to plants- and these were secrets only they knew. His blonde crown provided a faint luminescence.

"Mommy only sees through a microscope" he said. "You and I, we see e_verything_."

It rained one Saturday afternoon. Luna remembered her father telling her that the water was breaking free from the sky as if to settle back down on the Earth. Some how water dripping from a tap had not the same enigma as rain, so Luna ventured out to the flooded rivers once she was captivated by both the sounds and smells of rain. The leaves shivered as water splashed down on their green spines as if trembling, and luminous drops of water that had captured a piece of the sun clung to the underside.

Luna found this beautiful, and she'd spend minutes open mouthed and painting. She was startled out of her reverie, and presented the intrusion to her mother, grinning from ear to ear, "I'll name it Lysander!"

Her mother picked up the frog and balanced it above the cereal bowl. She gave a shaky hollow laugh, "dear, this is not a Lysander" she said. Luna's mother gave a soft push on the slimy frog's abdomen and small black pods gushed out into the bowl. "Eggs!" Luna smiled.

And for the first time in her life, Luna was allowed to touch the microscope and set foot in the secret world downstairs. Her mother fixed the focus and beckoned.

Luna looked down amused and perplexed. The images were startling like a candle flame viewed through unfocused eyes and soon a little shape and form began to emerge.

"What do you see?" she asked her creamy skin mingling with the scent of rain.

"Three little black pods, like the outlines have been drawn with a marker."

Her mother cleared her throat in disagreement. There was an answer.

Luna became acutely aware of the blue eyes discerning her.

"NO. What do you see, Luna?"

"Eggs?" she asked. Her mother gave a sigh.

"_Life_" finally Luna answered correctly. Her mother gave a pat on her back, "That's right Luna life- you, I, and your father."

Luna was permitted to venture into the lab from that day onwards, having proven her skill and of course neatness. These were the moments she enjoyed the best with her mother.

A week later, Luna watched her mother perish before her own eyes, sprawled against the grey floor like a fallen angel ripped of her wings.

Luna avoided the lab at all costs, and she wouldn't speak to anyone. The use of her limbs ebbed away and nameless feelings were weighing down on her- as the first flicker of paranoia set in. The bedtime stories stopped as Philius stared into the night sky which reflected nothing but shadows. Luna found roses in her mother's unopened crate and watched them burn, and wither backwards as if running back to the day it was a bud. She wondered at such times why the dead couldn't be reformed. But, of course the answer was palpable. The petals would shrink into ashes and ashes until the naked stalk was left. Then Luna would feel the same, just like a naked tree stripped of leaves- without name-purpose-or life.

It was a very bright and cloudless morning; the sunlight illuminated her sleepy face. After what seemed liked hours, she knocked the hand made quilt aside, and went to play at the river. Already, a large amount of children had been playing, snickering behind their palms and eying her like she was one of the slimy frogs jumping on the trees. She heard snatches of conversation: _Luna...Lovegood...Looney...Crazy...Frog._

She was angry. Very angry, but raised not a voice, and in stead climbed down as rationally as she could and made her way home trudging in muddy boots

She found herself staring at the door of her mother's lab without a trace of emotion. She ran a finger absent mindedly across the cold door. The smudges disappeared like mist on a window. From the corner of her eyes she saw a shadow running across the wall, and deep down hoped it was her mother ready to rebuke her for blocking the entrance and the plethora of mud she left on the floors. In stead she felt a warm familiar weight pressed against her shoulder.

She followed him downstairs to the dark cellar steps, and with a tug of the rusted chain, the light clicked on. The disarray startled her. Dirty beakers crowded the sink and the same ashen stain on the floor still lingered.

Luna was now finally in the lab, where her mother had once been experimenting and laughing and of course….

"Now wait one minute" said Philius plastering the cheeriest of grins that did not shine in his own eyes. He rummaged through the sink, and bought out some beakers cracking cheesy jokes about how flowers could still grown in this dim place.

Just as she began to feel the happiness of her achievements the bulb above them sputtered, and Luna heard a drip from the corner. She looked over and saw the leak in the ceiling. Philius couldn't find his wand, and tugged on Luna's hand to pull her out. She felt her throat tighten.

The place she had waited to use for so long had vanished. The final memory of her mother had drowned along with the dirty beakers and the ashes. Luna placed her hand in her pocket. The burnt stalk was still there.

Now years later, she understood the danger of letting grief enter your sanctuary.

"Oh blood hell!" she shouted, hopping on her unharmed leg. A sharp pain shot through her and for a moment she felt tears, but as she swung around and saw the young man at the doorway they had dissolved. The sandy haired man took out his wand- "You should really be careful about those wracking wrackspurts" he said pointedly at the jumping crate.

"How are you?" he asked with the faintest trace of a French accent, and at the swish of his wand the wound vanished. Up close she realized he had a few freckles littered across his nose and a scar behind his ear.

"Fine" she murmured. After a moment of silence, he gave a laugh- "_Oh-bloody-hell_ fine?"

"In theory." She smirked.

He crouched down beside her and said "Fine. Fine? Hmm. Excuse my English, but I don't think I know this word". A smile pinched the sides of his lips "I think I should understand it in the body language- let's see, blood, face tightened with pain and a body crouching over? I guess _fine_ has the same meaning as _dreadful_."

Luna shook her head in disagreement, "Fine means really dreadful. Awfully dreadful."

At this he stood back up and opened the crate with an elaborate Swiss army knife to perform a sleeping charm- "to help you settle in a little faster" he smiled cheekily. A faint blush ran to her cheeks, as she watched the retreating figure.

"Wait!" she called out and he turned around amused. "Your name?"

"Rolf" he answered, transfiguring a piece of crumpled up paper into roses and placing them into a vase.

"My name's-"

"Dr Luna Lovegood. Of course."

She listened as his footsteps died down leisurely across the hall. "Thanks!" she called, but only the echo of her own voice returned.

**X**

**SOO…:D?**


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